


Remission

by Aneonmoose



Category: AC/DC, House M.D.
Genre: Cigarettes, Denial of Feelings, Dialogue Heavy, Drunken Kissing, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Straight with an exception, because Ang smokes like a chimney, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6206938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aneonmoose/pseuds/Aneonmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grown men who can't deal with feelings. </p><p>Special guest - Dr James Wilson (go figure)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remission

 

  
I woke up with my head against a solid yet warm chest. I could smell tobacco masked with what smelled like Bleu de Chanel but... Why did I know that? I realised I was being carried somewhere and hushed, urgent voices were discussing something above my head but I didn't understand what. All I knew is that their voices were grating and made my groggy state worse. I gathered all my energy to groan in disagreement and they shut up, the arms holding me tightening their grip on my chest and legs. I wanted to sleep again and my eyelids were heavy but I couldn't. Something was wrong. Suddenly, I heard a car door opening and I was gently placed onto the backseat, with the person carrying me elevating my head by putting it on their lap. My eyes wouldn't open and the person didn't speak so I didn't know who it was. I wanted to ask but I was too exhausted. The engine roared to life and the car lurched forward. I groaned again, my inner ear going crazy at all the mixed information. I felt a hand gently playing with my hair, which felt both calming and irritating. I wanted to open my eyes, look up at the person holding me, but I was too out of it. I just tried to block out everything and wait it out.

\---------------------------

Some time later, not sure how long exactly, the car stopped and I was being carried once more, shivering at the sudden cold air. A door was shoved open and my ears were assaulted with the bustling of some busy place. I could smell antiseptic and bleach and I knew then. I opened my eyes slightly and saw the bright fluorescent lamps above me. Yep. Hospital. "He just... Collapsed." I heard a voice and felt the vibration of the person's chest. It was all so familiar, I knew it, but just couldn't figure it out. "How long..." "Twenty minutes... All of a sudden..." Everything was fading out, the voices sounded as though they were underwater and the last thing I heard was, "Stay with us..."

\---------------------------

When I woke up again, I was weak but fully lucid. I was flat on the hospital bed, staring at the cream ceiling, the lights dimmer than I remember them. Someone was holding my left hand and I moved my head to look at them. They were sitting curled up on an uncomfortable looking plastic chair, their head, covered with a gray hood, leaning against the wall. I weakly squeezed their hand and they sighed. It was then that I realised that they were sleeping. I smiled softly, even though I couldn't recognise them. Then, a lock of brown, curly hair slipped out from under the hood and I smiled wider. Of course, only Bon would stay by my side even if it meant sleeping in the most uncomfortable position imaginable. I was confused and desperate for answers but I waited until he woke up, an hour and a half later. I didn't know what happened but I knew he was as tired as me, if not more, from the stress. Eventually, he stretched out and yawned, before noticing that I was staring at him. He smiled weakly.

"Hey."

"Hi." I said, watching him slowly stretch out his sore limbs. Then, he sat, looking at me with worry in his eyes.

"Your BMI is 15." He deadpanned and I sighed. "The hell are you doing, man? In case you didn't know, humans need to eat to live."

"I know."

"You're so severely underweight that you have anemia and malnutrition. You passed out and I couldn't wake you for fifteen minutes! I thought you'd gone and fuckin' left me..." He quietened down near the end of his sentence, looking down. I wanted to kick myself. "They said that's a sign of anorexia, and God, I should've seen it sooner, but I stupidly assumed that, since you're a guy... God, I hate myself." He sighed heavily, leaning back and rubbing his face with his hands. I took a breath but I didn't know what to say. If I got defensive, he'd see it as proof.

"I'm not- I'm not anorexic."

"Sure."

"No, really. I just haven't been all that hungry lately. The stress of recording and touring ended up killing my appetite. Besides, let's face it, it's not like we get a lot of opportunities to eat properly anyway. I guess I just replaced meals with cigarettes."

"Angus, damn it, you nearly starved yourself to death!" He exclaimed, pulling back the bedsheets to show my chest. "You can see all of your ribs! And your face is sunken, boney - damn it, you expect me to believe this was all accidental?!" I bit my lip hard. It was truly not intentional. I really just didn't feel like eating. It started a few months back, but I forced myself to eat anyway. Eventually, I stopped. Food didn't seem like fun anymore. Besides, what with the constant cough I'd had for a while, I frequently had coughing fits so bad that I'd gag. I figured, throwing up would be less horrible if my stomach was, empty. Still, Bon was right. It had gone too far. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing!" I yelled, suddenly angry. That was a bad idea. I lapsed into another coughing fit and when it was over and I took my hands from my face, they were splattered with blood.

"Oh, fuck."

 

\---------------------------

 

The metal table was cold and uncomfortable but I forced myself to stay still as the X-ray loudly clicked above me. Bon and the technician were inside the booth, likely discussing something that I couldn't hear. I tried not to worry too much but it was hard. Eventually, I was told I could sit up and I did so, wincing at the pain in my chest. I knew that as soon as the doctor left the booth with a furrowed brow that something was wrong. I looked up and, for the first time since childhood, prayed for it to be nothing serious.

The CT scan was the most stressful test yet. Bon was talking to me through the intercom, cracking jokes and telling stories to take my mind off it and I was extremely grateful but I could tell from the way his voice cracked that he was as worried as me.

"It's cancer." I stared at the doctor for a long time before bursting out laughing.

"No, it isn't." Dr Wilson was serious but I was still chuckling.

"It's not all bad news. The tumor is small enough to be operable, and it hasn't metastasised. Still, it is cancer and surgery, radiotherapy and chemotherapy are necessary." Bon nodded grimly, thanking the doctor. He left, and I started sobbing, even though just moments earlier, I was laughing hysterically.

"Sh, it's okay." He held me close, sitting on my bed with me, and I sobbed into his hoodie, holding it tightly with my fists. "It's okay." I was angry and shocked and depressed but it all seemed irrelevant when I felt a hot tear land on my arm. I realised how bad he must feel. That just made me cry harder.

 

\---------------------------

Three weeks later

\---------------------------

 

I woke up in my own bed, exhausted despite sleeping all night. The night before I'd had my third day of chemo and had a week to let my body recover. After that, another three days of literal hell on earth and then another week of rest. This would continue for a month and a half. Then, they said, if it didn't work enough, they'd start radiotherapy.

I stared at the drawn curtains, slowly waking up fully. Suddenly, I felt the now familiar nausea and shot up, leaning over to the bucket beside the bed. My throat was burning, and it felt like someone was pulling my stomach out through my mouth. I wanted to die. 

Unfortunately, I didn't. I exhaled forcefully, planning to lie back down when I saw it. I swear, I didn't mean to scream. Bon ran in, alarmed, probably expecting me to be on the floor, in agony. He asked what the problem was and I silently pointed at my pillow. He sighed, rubbing his face.

"You were told to expect this."

"I expected gradual loss, not a massive fucking clump falling out at once!" I yelled, putting my hand to the back of my head, where I felt the thinner hair. I pulled at it and stared at the second clump of hair in my hand.

"Angus, it's okay."

"No it isn't!" I wanted to cry. My beautiful hair... My best friend sat beside me, opening his arms for a hug, which I accepted.

"It's only hair. It'll grow back." I sighed. He was right, and yet... "Besides, I love you with or without your hair." I pulled away, staring at him.

"You what?"

"Nothin'." I knew what I heard and he knew that I knew but neither of us pointed it out. It was easier to remain blissfully oblivious to it all. I hugged him again and breathed in the smell of Bleu de Chanel. I loved that cologne on him but I wasn't gonna tell him. Besides, I think he knew cause he wore it more often than he used to. I sighed deeply and tried blocking everything else out.

 

\---------------------------

 

At noon, as I miserably sat on my couch, I got an idea. Quietly, to avoid disturbing Bon, who had fallen asleep, clearly sleep deprived from having to sit with me and make sure I kept breathing at night, I tiptoed to the bathroom where I dug around in the drawer, looking for the scissors. I smiled bitterly and brought the blades to my head.

"Jesus!" Bon yelled, walking into the bathroom, where I sat on the bathtub, surrounded by my hair on the floor. "What the fuck?"

"Would'a fallen out anyway, right? This way it won't be as obvious." I shrugged, as though it was no big deal. It wasn't, anyway. I'd had short hair before and it didn't look that terrible. Still, I could understand why Bon was in shock. "Is it that bad?"

"No, it's not bad, it's just - I'm not used to it. But it looks okay." Bon smiled slightly and sat beside me. "How are you dealing, anyway?"

"I'm fine." I shrugged again. "Hell, what's the point in bein' anything but resigned to it? Not like anger will make me not have cancer." I was lying. I was furious at it all. I hated myself for ever picking up a cigarette. But anger wouldn't change a thing.

 

\---------------------------

Evening

\---------------------------

  
Bon had gone out to get me more painkillers and when he didn't return for three hours, I figured he'd stopped at a bar, got a drink, met some girl, you get the point. It was okay. I was glad he was having fun, since he'd been by my side for days at a time. He'd actually brought some clothes from his place to mine to save himself the trouble of going back and forth. I curled up on the couch and fell asleep immediately.  
I was startled awake by the door shutting loudly and a slurred "Shit" coming from Bon. However, I stayed still, without opening my eyes. He stumbled into the living room, tripped over the coffee table, cursed again and kneeled beside me. I could smell the tobacco and whiskey on his breath. I subconsciously held my breath and then I felt it. Light, fleeting and quick, but it happened. He kissed my forehead. Suddenly, he was gone, the door to the guest room shutting with a click. I sat up, dazed. What the shit?

\---------------------------

I must've sat there for at least an hour, mulling it over. First, the indirect love confession, now the kiss... It was pretty obvious what was going on but I couldn't understand why he wouldn't just tell me outright. It's not like I'd judge him. Unless... Maybe he hadn't come to terms with it himself? My head started hurting, obviously from analysing everything to bits so I reached for my codeine. Time to stop thinking.

\---------------------------

I woke up again as the sun was rising, streaming in gently through the open blinds. It hit me right in the eyes and I grimaced, rolling over to avoid blindness and suddenly, I was nose to nose with Bon. Shit, fuck, shit, crap, fuck fuck fuck. His arm was around me loosely but he was dead asleep so, in a panic, I tried getting out of the guest bed. In my haste, I ended up tangling myself in the sheets and fell to the cold wooden floor with a thud.  
"God damn it!" I hissed, struggling to get to my feet. Instead, I decided to sit on the floor, leaning against the bed and try to figure out what the fuck I was doing in Bon's room. I remembered taking my pills, then lying down on the couch waiting for them to work. Then, nothing. I was still wearing my jeans and t-shirt so obviously nothing happened. But what the hell was I doing there? What had happened for me to go to him?  
Maybe it was because I felt lonely. Maybe it was because I yearned for someone to hug me, tell me everything was gonna be okay. Don't get me wrong, Bon was being incredibly supportive, but he seemed to avoid mentioning his, or my, feelings. 

Although, there could also be the fact that he was in love with me.

In retrospect, it had always been kinda obvious. But maybe that's why he avoided talking about feelings. Maybe that's why he went out to get hammered after he accidentally slipped up and told me. I didn't know. All I knew was that I sort of missed his warmth and the weight of his arm on my waist. Fuck. I hauled myself to my feet and looked at his sleeping figure, seeing the way his hair covered most of his face and that his hand was still how it was while I was there. However, his breathing was kinda fast... Too fast for someone who was meant to be asleep.

"I know you're not asleep." He opened one eye and bit his lip.

"In my defense, I had no idea until you fell and woke me up." I crossed my arms but I wasn't angry. I was just confused. "Oh, shit, my head. Hey, you mind closing the blinds?" I did as he asked and he sat up slightly, rubbing his eyes. "Hey, I'm sorry." I shook my head, sitting beside him.

"No, it's not your fault." I sighed, and looked at him, forcing him to keep eye contact. "Bon... Are you in love with me?"

"No. Are you okay? Looked like a painful fall..." I shrugged, angry that he was deflecting.

"So... That thing yesterday, where you said you loved me..."

"I was just tryin'a make you feel better." He cut me off and I sighed. For some reason, I was disappointed, which was odd, because, well. He was my best friend. "Why? Are _you_ in love with me?" He teased and I rolled my eyes.

"No." I wasn't sure if that was the truth anymore. Bon winked and got out of bed, shuffling to the en suite. "Wait! What about that kiss last night?"

"I was drunk." He shrugged and shut the door behind him. Damn it.

 

\---------------------------

 

I heard the shower turn on so, for lack of better things to do, I lay back down on the bed and breathed in the smell of his peach shampoo on the pillow. I always teased him about the smell but he argued that it made his hair soft and shiny and that it smelled good anyway and I could piss off cause he didn't have to impress me. He impressed me anyway. With his admirable supportiveness and talent as a singer and songwriter and just generally being an amazing friend. Yeah. Friend. Was that enough? I didn't want to think about this stuff but I was anyway, my thoughts racing at a hundred miles per hour. I didn't even notice him leaving the bathroom, being so lost in thought. "You alright?" I glanced up at him and nodded, seeing his worried face. It was sweet that he worried so much but I also wished he wouldn't. 

"You worry about me too much." I mumbled, mostly into the pillow. I watched him brush his hair in the mirror above the dresser. He scoffed.

"Yeah, well, my best friend has cancer, sorry for being worried."

"That's not what I meant." I muttered, sighing. "But just because I'm sick doesn't mean you can't have a life. Tell me, did you at least go home with some girl last night?" He shook his head, not looking at me. "This is what I mean, when's the last time you had fun?" this time, he did turn and look me in the eye.

"I have fun every second I spend with you." What. Bon put his brush down and sat beside me, smiling softly.

"We don't need to have a hard night of partying to have fun. I enjoy just watching old movies with you or just sitting and talking or jamming when you feel up to it. Honest." I felt myself wanting to grin so I buried my face further in the pillow so he couldn't see.

"You _are_  in love with me." I hoped he wouldn't hear me but he did.

"No I'm not! Fucking shit, Angus, I'm starting to think you are." God help me, I have no idea why I said what I did.

"And what if I am?" 

Bon didn't answer. I felt his weight on the mattress shift and then disappear. Retreating footsteps and then the door shut with a quiet click. I sat up, my heart racing. Why did I say that? It wasn't even true. Or was it? I wasn't sure anymore. Everything was confusing and conflicting and I wanted a cigarette but I couldn't have one, after all, this is what caused the cancer in the first place. I heard the front door shut, loudly, heavily and I winced. I knew he'd be back, he always came back.

 

\---------------------------

 

I wasn't sure if he'd be back this time, when after almost a whole day, I'd heard nothing about where he was. I hated myself for telling him. I was anxious for him to come back, talk to me, yell at me, tell me that it's disgusting and he hates me, I just wanted him to talk to me. Well, obviously, him saying he hates me wouldn't be ideal but he'd acknowledge it. I stared at my codeine and the bottle of whiskey I found under Bon's bed. I'd never really gotten drunk before, except on my 18th, but I was seriously debating it now. I heard the wall clock tick incessantly and I decided.

As I took another swig from the bottle, the front door opened and Bon crept in, probably expecting me to be asleep. He froze mid step when he saw me, sitting miserably on the floor, drinking. I shot up when I saw him and swayed, having balance issues.

"Wh-Where the hell've you been?" I slurred and held onto the book case, hoping to stay upright. Bon immediately rushed over and held me. I leaned against his chest, smelling that God forsaken cologne.

"You're sloshed."

"Wow, Sher-Sherlock." I muttered sarcastically, angry at him. I lifted my fist and hit his chest but the alcohol made me weak and clumsy. "I hate you."

"Okay." Bon muttered dismissively, leading me to my room. "We'll talk tomorrow, if you don't have a massive hangover, that is."

"No! No. Talk t'day. I want an explanation."

"Of what?" Bon asked as he helped me change out of my t-shirt. I stopped him when the feeling of his cold hands on my waist was ironically the hottest touch I've ever felt. I knew his hands were icy and yet they felt like lava.

"I l-love you. And I know - know you l-l-love me too. Why won't you say it?"

"Because you're drunk." suddenly I didn't seem as drunk.

"I wasn't when I told you. You decided to leave for a day."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know what to sa-" I cut the bastard off by shoving him against a wall and pressing my lips to his. I had to stand on my toes but it was irrelevant. It felt like ages before he kissed me back, but oh, he did.

I don't know how long we stood there but when we finally broke apart, my heart was racing and my hands were tingling. "I want you." I whispered. Bon seemed to want it too but he pushed me away gently.

"No." I was pissed off again.

"We just made out?!"

"Yes! I know!" He seemed annoyed too. "And it was hot as hell, and all I wanna do is fuck you till you beg but I fucking can't!" He exclaimed, running a hand through his hair and breathing heavily.

"Why not? You want to fuck me, I want you to fuck me, I see - I see no issue."

"You're fucking drunk. I'm many, many things but a rapist I am not."

"I'm saying yes!" I yelled and he flipped us around, pushing me to the wall.

"I know. I know. But you don't know what you're saying. And I don't want to do something you'll regret." I was gonna protest but he shushed me. "I promise you, if you want to and feel up to it tomorrow..." I nodded, disappointed but resigned. "Go to sleep. You'll be hungover as hell in the morning." He was right, and yet... I nodded and tried kissing him again, but he turned his head away when our lips met. "Please... If we kiss again... I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself." I didn't  _want_ him to, but he was adamant. Besides, I was - I'd never - it was a new experience, all of it, and even though I was really damn turned on, I was grateful he was insistent. I just wondered if I'd remember when I woke up. Despite my worries, I fell onto my bed and passed out immediately. 

 

\---------------------------

 

"God, how do you do this?" I asked, trying, and failing, to stop dry heaving. My stomach had expelled the last of its contents at around 6am, leaving me with all the unpleasantness of vomiting without actually puking. I was thirsty as all hell but I couldn't even keep water down. Bon was gently rubbing my back, pretending he wasn't grimacing. God, that man was a damn saint.

"I've built up a tolerance. Now, all I get is a killer headache."

"This is worse than the chemo." It wasn't, not really, but it felt as terrible as the chemo did.

"It'll be over soon." He spoke, and I could hear the small smile in his voice. I sat up and cleared my throat. 

"I- I think I'm done." 

"Here, small sips." He said, handing me a glass of water with a fizzy tablet inside. "Alka Seltzer. Hangover godsend." I shrugged, thirsty enough that I could drink anything. I followed his advice, glad that I could drink and not retch. 

"Whatever you say, Doctor." The drink was honestly a lifesaver so I drank half the glass in one gulp. He rolled his eyes. 

"Smug bastard. You always this stubborn?" 

"You know I am." I smirked. He knew the answer to that. Which reminded me of it all. I bit my lip and broke eye contact, wondering if he remembered. Fuck, of course he would, he was completely sober. 

"I'm - I'm not sure what you remember... but I'm sorry. I - I lost control, took advantage and I - " He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. I wanted to hug him, touch him, but I didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable. "Truth is, I've - shit - I've been in love with you since... '75. And I just always... blocked it out. And it worked, it was shit, but it worked, until last night."

"I'm the one that - I kissed you first."

"You were absolutely hammered, you're not to blame." Why was he so damn forgiving and apologetic? 

"I forced myself on you! And here you are, saying it wasn't my fault?!"

"I kissed back!" He argued, exasperated. I grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at me. 

"I started it. And I don't regret it whatsoever. So, unless you do, I really don't think either of us should be annoyed about this."

"You mean it?" I rolled my eyes, nodding.

"Yeah, I mean it." He smiled and I bit my lip again. We were silent for a while, until I added, "I'd kiss ya but I need to brush my teeth..." He laughed then, pulling me into a hug instead. 

"God, I love you."

"I think... I think I might love you too." 


End file.
